Cinderella's Tycoon

Sterling paced restlessly along the courthouse hallway. Although the air was cool thanks to the air-conditioning, he’d managed to work up a sweat. As a result, he’d loosened his tie and tossed his navy suit coat over a corridor chair a while ago. Now, stripped down to his shirtsleeves and vest, he glanced at his wristwatch for what felt like the umpteenth time, then stalked over to glare out the bank of windows that overlooked the building’s main entrance.

It was 1:10 and there wasn’t a redhead in sight.

“Mr. Churchill?”

He swiveled around, recognizing the voice of Judge Lester’s clerk. “Yes?”

The young man hesitated. “I don’t mean to worry you, but I thought I’d better mention that His Honor is due back in court at two. If your fiancée is delayed much longer, I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule.”

“No problem. She should be here any minute.”

Apparently he sounded more confident than he felt, because the clerk readily nodded. “Good. But as soon as she arrives, if you could come straight inside, we’ll get started.”

“Fine.” The instant the younger man disappeared back through the door into the judge’s chambers, Sterling whipped around to once more scan the sidewalk down below.

Nothing. He swore under his breath. Susan Wilkins wasn’t coming and it was his own damn fault. He never should have agreed to let her get to the courthouse on her own. For that matter, he never should have let her out of his sight. His instinct—the one that had lifted him out of a childhood of near-poverty and made him a millionaire before he turned thirty—had urged him to close this deal while he could. He should have listened to it, should have heeded the inner voice of experience that had warned him that speed was of the essence.

Because, while there was no way for Ms. Wilkins to know that he would never take a child away from its mother, by now she might have figured out that a court was far more likely to order him to pay support than grant him custody.

Then again, why would she settle for half the pie when she could have it all? She’d made it clear yesterday that she knew he had money. And, though he knew his attorney was going to have a coronary when he found out, Sterling had deliberately chosen not to ask for a prenup so that by marrying him, she’d have a direct claim on his wealth—a fact he’d counted on to work in his favor.

He grimaced. It appeared he’d thought wrong. It appeared that if he had the brains God gave a Hereford, he would have called the judge from her dingy little living room yesterday and taken care of everything then and there.

Of course, he had been practically out on his feet. And there was no guarantee that the judge would’ve been available. Or that he could have arranged things on such short notice. Hell, he’d had to pull strings to make this happen today.

Besides, Susan had given him her word she’d be here—

Aw, come on, Churchill, get real. Teresa promised to love, honor and cherish you for the rest of your life and you know how that turned out. When are you going to learn?

His face tightened at the reminder of his ex-wife. Bracing his hands against the windowsill, he hunched his shoulders and stared blindly out into the bright September sun, remembering the day she’d packed up and left him. He’d spent most of their marriage trying to make up to her for the child they couldn’t have. But it hadn’t been until that winter afternoon four years ago that he’d finally accepted that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be enough to fill the void in her life. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, and he’d vowed, as he stood there and watched her drive away, that he would never again open himself up to such heartbreak.

So it wasn’t as if he wanted to get married. If it weren’t for the child, there wasn’t a tinker’s chance in hell he’d even consider it. But there was a child on the way. And not only did he want it with every fiber of his being, but he was damned if he was going to let it grow up the way he had, with no father and a mother who was too busy putting food on the table to bother with anything else.

A flurry of motion caught his attention. Glancing to his left, Sterling watched a woman hurriedly cross the street at the far corner and head in his direction. For a second his heart sped up as he saw that she had red hair, but it only took him an instant to realize it wasn’t his intended.

For one thing, instead of a dowdy auburn bun, this woman had a rich sorrel mane streaked with fiery strands of copper and chestnut that tumbled in sexy disarray past her slender shoulders.

For another, she was a real head-turner as she dashed along in a stylish lavender dress that skimmed her delicately curved body and strappy high heels that made her long, slim legs appear to go on forever.

He felt an unwanted tightening in his groin. In the next instant, he told himself firmly he was glad the woman wasn’t Susan, who, if yesterday was any indication, seemed to favor clothes that would make her a contender in a Frump of the Month competition.

Not that she was repulsive or anything. She had nice enough features. And good teeth. And what he’d been able to see of her body—arms, neck, ankles and feet—had been okay. Yet she was also totally forgettable, the sort of plain, unassuming female who would fade quietly into any background.

And Sterling was grateful. Hell, he was more than grateful, he was relieved. Having to get married was bad enough. While he meant every word he’d said when he told Susan he’d take good care of her, the last thing he wanted was to have feelings for her. When it came to women, he was done with any sort of tender emotions.

“Mr. Churchill?”

It was the clerk again. With an inner sigh, he turned. “What?”

“I really am afraid that we’re running out of time. We need to either get started or—”

Down the hall, the bell on the elevator pinged and the door slid open. Sterling glanced over, his attention momentarily arrested as the woman from the street stepped out. Clutching a small silver bag in delicate fingers, she took a hurried look around, her hair swinging around her like a fiery cloak.

Damned if something about her didn’t seem faintly familiar, he thought uneasily. He shifted his gaze back to the court clerk, determined to focus on what the man was saying—

“Sterling?”

That voice. It couldn’t be... He turned, his whole body going tight with disbelief.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the vision in lavender said breathlessly, hurrying toward him. “Usually I’m right on time, but things took longer than they said at the salon, and then I couldn’t get a cab, and I walked as fast as I could, but I’m not used to wearing heels...” Coming to a halt before him, she bit her full lower lip, looking uncertain as their gazes met.

He stared at her in shock. “Susan?” Thanks to a subtle application of makeup, the same features that yesterday had seemed faded and nondescript, today were anything but Her dark brown eyes seemed huge, while the mouth that she was nervously nibbling the lipstick off appeared achingly erotic.

Judge Lester’s clerk clapped his hands together, his expression relieved. “You must be Miss Wilkins.” He gave Susan an approving once-over as she stood there looking both sexy and classy, a jacket that matched her dress draped stylishly over one slim, milky arm. “I’m so glad you made it. As I was just telling Mr. Churchill, we need to get started. If you’d both follow me, please?” He marched importantly toward the door.

Susan glanced uncertainly after him, then turned back to Sterling. “I truly am sorry I’m late. I hope you’re not angry.”

“Me? Angry? Hell, no.” He reached over, snagged his coat off the chair and yanked it on. “I just figured you weren’t coming.”

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “But I promised.”

For some reason, the discovery that her word meant something to her was almost as unsettling as her incredible—and totally unwelcome—transformation. “Forget it. At least you’re here now. Shall we go in?”

“Oh, but—that is, if you could give me just one second—” Her movements hurried, she handed him her ridiculously little purse, then quickly slipped on her jacket, flipped her hair free of the collar and smoothed it back with her fingers.

A faint whiff of perfume enveloped him at her movement. The scent was as soft and evocative as she looked. To his horror, it was all he could do not to lean forward, press his lips to some silky patch of her and see if she tasted as good as she looked. Wondering what the hell was wrong with him, he impatiently yanked the knot on his tie into place—and nearly strangled himself.

“There.” Oblivious to his rapidly deteriorating mood, she carefully retrieved her purse from his rigid hands, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

It’s about time. He took a step, then stopped. Reaching over he snatched his hat and the small gardenia bouquet he’d brought off the chair, thrusting the latter at her. “Here. These are for you.”

She looked at him in surprise, then slowly took the flowers and lifted them to her face. “Oh, Sterling, they’re lovely,” she breathed, her face lighting up in a way that was anything but plain. “Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said stiffly, motioning her to precede him down the hall. She gazed up at him, her lips parting as if she were going to say something, and then she seemed to lose her nerve. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and started toward the judge’s chambers.

Stubbornly resisting an unacceptable urge to check out the sway of her slender hips, Sterling took a fortifying breath and followed, his face grim.

Just for a second, he couldn’t remember why this had seemed like such a good idea ten minutes ago.

“...and so, by the power vested in me by the great state of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

His official duties fulfilled, Judge Lester rocked back on his heels, clapped Sterling on the back with one beefy hand and said jovially, “You know what that means, doncha, boy? That means you can finally pucker up and kiss your pretty little bride.” The jovial judge winked conspiratorially at Susan, then shifted his gaze to her husband. “Go on, now. This is no time to be shy.” Eyes twinkling, he waited expectantly.

Gathering her courage, Susan snuck an apprehensive glance at Sterling. Just as she feared, his good-looking face held a complete lack of enthusiasm for the judge’s suggestion.

Her spirits sank. For all his insistence that she marry him, he’d spent the past twenty minutes acting like the reluctant groom at a shotgun wedding. Curt and unsmiling, he’d suffered through introductions to the court reporter who was acting as a witness along with the clerk, and had only reluctantly made small talk with the judge. And though he’d said his vows in a clear voice without hesitation, he’d done it with all the warmth of a man reciting an arrest warrant.

It hadn’t exactly been the wedding of her dreams, either, Susan acknowledged wistfully. But then, it wasn’t supposed to be, she reminded herself, absently twisting the gleaming gold band on her ring finger. She was doing this for the baby. Hadn’t she been awake all night, considering her options? And hadn’t she decided that she wanted more for her child than a life on the run or a childhood shaped by a series of court battles?